Chapter 1: London in December – A New Story Begins

For a while now, I’ve been wanting to share a story… One that blends a little fiction with personal reflections. I’m calling it a novella, and while some parts are drawn from real experiences, others are left for the reader to decide what’s real and what’s imagined. This is the first chapter: London in December.

London in December

The music swelled, filling the grand space of the London Colosseum, it’s soaring notes wrapping around Eleanor, like a warm embrace. On stage, Clara, twirled, the Nutcracker Prince guiding her into a world of magic and possibility. Eleanor sat transfixed, the beauty of the performance, pulling her into a place, both nostalgic and new. It was as if, for this moment, time slowed, allowing her to fully absorb the enchantment of the ballet, the glow of the chandeliers, the murmured awe of the audience.

She reached for her husband’s hand. It was a small, instinctive gesture, one that they had shared, countless times over the years. He turned to her briefly, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze, and they smiled at each other before returning their gaze to the stage.

Later that night, London came alive around them. The doors of the Colosseum swung open, and Eleanor and her husband stepped out into the crisp December air. The street shimmered with holiday lights and the city pulsed with an energy she had missed… something electric, something full of movement and endless possibilities.

They wandered through Covent Garden, taking in the towering Christmas tree, the sounds of festive melodies, and the shop windows glistening with elegant holiday displays. As they walked hand-in-hand down Regent St… Eleanor stopped abruptly, her eyes drawn upward.

The angels.

Suspended high above the street, luminous figures of light stretched their wings over the bustling crowds below. Ethereal and breathtaking, they seem to watch over the city, a silent reminder of something greater than the moment itself. Eleanor felt something stir deep within her… a mix of longing, remembrance, and quiet revelation.

Her husband noticed the change in her, the way her breath caught. “What is it?” he asked gently.

She swallowed, barely able to find the words. “It’s just… time moves so quickly… and I think of all the people who aren’t here to see this. My sister, friends… all the ones who left too soon. I wonder what they would have thought of this. If they had more time, would they have lived differently?”

Her voice wavered, and she blinked back tears. It wasn’t sadness exactly, but something more complex… an ache for time lost, and a quiet determination not to waste what was left.

Her husband pulled her into a soft embrace, his presence, solid grounding. “Then let’s make sure we don’t waste ours,” he murmured.

Eleanor nodded against his shoulder, letting the moment settle around her. As the angels glowed above them, and London stretched out in front of them, she felt something shifted within her. A whisper of change. A call towards something new.

She didn’t know it yet, but in just a few short weeks, she and her husband would make a decision that would change everything.